


Lust

by SkinSlave



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Marilyn Manson - Fandom
Genre: Backstage, Blood, Cute, Demon Summoning, Demons, Erotica, F/M, Falling In Love, Familiars, Love, Lust, Murder, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Silly, Spells & Enchantments, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Sex, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinSlave/pseuds/SkinSlave
Summary: A woman will stop at nothing to have the man of her dreams.TW: tastefully explicit sex, demonic familiar, murder, tattletale driver.





	1. Pact

It's amazing what a little candlelight can do for a room. If you light five candles, for example, and arrange them carefully on a mirror, they make a lovely centerpiece for your kitchen.

Then you can begin with the main course - some fresh herbs, lots of salt and a very fresh chicken. Steep the herbs in distilled water for about an hour. Spray the tea in a circle and lay the salt over it. Kill the chicken, use its blood to draw the right sigil, and voila. You will have a fascinating house guest.

Mine was Sitri, a high demon of lust. He was quite annoyed with the interruption of his busy schedule. I promised to make it quick, as I already knew what I wanted, above all else. In exchange for releasing him, I got a cat.

Voluptemo - Vol for short - is an adorable Bengal with peridot eyes. He doesn't shed or need a litter box and, as long as he's fed regularly, he responds well to commands. His appetite is unusual and requires a lot of work. Fortunately, he doesn't mind luring his meals to my door. I really couldn't ask for a better familiar.

I sent him on regular errands to build a bond before the big day. He became proficient in using his talents to create diversions and obtain what I wanted. By the time the doors opened for the concert, we were both ready.

I had gotten my ticket for free, thanks to Vol's powers of persuasion. Second row, center stage, right in the splash zone. I wasn't disappointed. The performance was insane. Even Vol had a good time, wrapping around my legs and purring.

The magic happened at the end of the last song, right before the walk-off. Vol leapt onto the edge of the stage and caught the singer's attention, then returned to me. I saw a flicker in the man's eyes, an upturn of his mouth. It was more than enough.

Before the venue was empty, a man in a black t-shirt approached me. I was invited, he said, to meet the band. I had been requested specifically. I accepted the offer and followed him backstage, my kitty close behind.

I was introduced to the musicians in the green room. The main attraction was conspicuously absent. A guitarist offered me a t-shirt and they clamored to sign it. I did my best impression of a starstruck young girl. Surprise usually yielded the best results in situations like that. The man in the black shirt eventually asked me to follow him.

He led me down a hallway and out a door. A massive black tour bus was parked next to the building. The man knocked on the door, listened, and opened the door. Vol jumped into my arms.

I climbed the steps and was surrounded by darkness. Vol, of course, could see perfectly and went to find a suitable spot to lounge. I stood still. I certainly didn't want to go bumbling through the bus.

A pair of hands took mine and guided me through the blackness. I didn't have to pretend to be giddy with anticipation. This was the payoff, the moment I had in mind when I drew Sitri into my home.

A lamp turned on. I blinked at the light and saw him. Marilyn Manson was sitting on the edge of a large bed. His hair was wet, his clothing fresh, his makeup recently redone. My eyes lingered on the crisp dress shirt, the blue eyeshadow. He grinned and looked me over.

"It's always nice to meet a fan," he said, clearing his throat. It seemed like a reflex, an ice-breaker that would allow me to set the tone for the encounter.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," I replied, my voice already husky with desire.

He stood, towering over me, and lifted my chin with two fingers. He looked into my eyes. His contacts made his look like sea glass. I wanted him to kiss me. I parted my lips in invitation.

He descended on my mouth like a man possessed. Marilyn's lips were soft but insistent. His tongue searched mine. I gently bit his lower lip and delved deeper into his mouth. He tasted like spearmint and smoke.

My breath fluttered. I raised my hands to his chest, searching for his heartbeat. He returned the favor, running his hands over my breasts. Light brushes against my nipples made me shiver and sigh.

"This is nuts," he said, breaking the kiss. "I never pick up fans. But I saw you and I just... it's... It was like witchcraft."

I grinned. He couldn't have known that I'd summoned a demon to get there. His body, his love, was my one desire. I had risked my life and my soul to reach him. Now I was going to claim my prize.

I pushed him gently backwards and he sat on the bed, looking up at me. I peeled my sweat-soaked t-shirt off and removed my bra. He was transfixed by my D cups. I pulled him in and moaned as he licked and nibbled them. I felt like a goddess.

He finally reached a point of no return. He pulled me on top of him, bouncing me onto the bed. He sat up and tore at his shirt, sending buttons flying. His black pants were too tight and he fought with them as if they were on fire. I peeled my boots and jeans off, tossing them to the floor.

Marilyn fell onto me, panting and desperate. I could feel his cock between us like a steel bar. I guided it into me. His moan as he hit bottom was otherworldly. He sounded like I felt, frantic and indulgent. He kissed me deeply and began to thrust.

I whimpered and held him, savoring every movement. I grazed his collarbone with my teeth, raked my nails across his shoulders, locked my ankles at the small of his back. Each time he sank into me, I lost my breath and the room went grey. I had never felt anything so delicious.

I felt a familiar warmth building in me. I pulled him closer, pressing our flesh together, determined to have all of him. I hung on the edge of orgasm for so long. It was a burning cliff that I couldn't let go of.

Then the entire cliff crumbled. I screamed and gasped, my body convulsing wildly. He arched so suddenly with his own orgasm that I felt my nails gouge his shoulders. Wave after wave rocked me, blinding me to anything but him. I wept. It was as though he had fallen through me, filling every secret place with his sweat.

I was still trembling when he lost his strength. He landed on his elbows and melted into the curve of my neck. I held him, shivering, until he caught his breath.

"That was," he whispered, "the most amazing thing I've ever felt."

I couldn't speak. I tangled my fingers in his damp hair. He lifted his face and looked into my eyes. His makeup was utterly ruined, his cheeks flushed. He kissed me as though I were a secret he wasn't supposed to have. He drank me in, a gentleness to sooth his heat.

After a long while, he raised up. He looked concerned, almost frightened.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly. "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean..."

"You didn't hurt me." I sat up and took his hand. "You were perfect. You were everything I'd dreamed you would be."

He grinned nervously. His eyes sparkled.

"Do you want to shower?" he offered, gesturing toward the adjoining bathroom. "I can get Rick to get you some fresh clothes. Are you hungry? Do you eat? I mean, I know you eat, but..."

He seemed lost. I kissed him tenderly.

"I'll take a quick shower, and you can round up a snack."

He smiled and nodded. As I disappeared into the bathroom, I heard him talking on the phone. The shower was large and the water was hot. I let our sweat and sex run down the drain, retaining the most powerful part of him beneath my skin.

I stepped out and began to dry off. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my cat, waiting patiently. He'd put in a lot of effort and I owed him. I wrapped the towel around my body and held my arm out to him. His needle-sharp teeth pierced my wrist and he lapped at the blood.

"Thank you, Vol," I whispered. "I'll have to give you a treat later."

My familiar sat up and licked his chops. The wound had already stopped bleeding and looked like little more than a scratch. I rubbed his head, scratched behind his ears. He purred.

"I asked Rick to get you some clothes," Marilyn called through the door. "I have a robe while you wait."

Vol padded to the corner and sat. I stepped back into the bedroom. From across the bus, I could hear running water. He must have been cleaning up in a second bathroom.

My lover had laid a burgundy robe on the bed. It was long, the better to cover his frame. I rolled the sleeves up a bit and stretched. The soft cotton was warm on my skin. I imagined it draped over him as he wandered the bus in the middle of the night. I wanted to keep it.

The sound of the shower stopped. Marilyn soon came back in, zipping a fresh pair of pants. He was glowing. I sighed as he kissed me, cradling my wet hair.

He took my hand and led me to the lounge area. He dug into a mini fridge and offered me a grape soda. I took it, dehydrated from our encounter.

"I don't actually keep much food in here." His tone was apologetic. "We just order in. I asked Rick to grab us something real quick."

"That sounds great."

I took a long drink and watched him, blushing like a schoolboy. He played with his fingers, picking at the black nail polish. He was exactly, and nowhere near, what I expected. He was hungry and physical, then soft and timid. Seeing his angles in person was like meeting a wild animal for the first time.

"So, did you like the concert?"

It was such a ridiculous question that we both laughed. I played along, critiquing the performance as though I weren't speaking with the icon who pranced across the stage. He listened thoughtfully and offered some judgements if his own. We settled on the vocalist being a bit too high, a bit too egotistical, and way too heavy on the eyeliner.

Our giggles were interrupted by a knock on the door. Marilyn answered it and returned with a pizza and a bag of clothes. He tossed the bag to the side and sat with the pizza box on his lap.

For the next two hours, we just enjoyed being together. He told me his thoughts on everything, rambling monologues that were windows into his psyche. He asked hard questions. He looked me in the eye. And he offered me the last slice.

Someone knocked on the bus door and brought us back into the moment. It was late, or early, and I said I had somewhere to be in the morning. He caught my hand as I headed to the bedroom with the bag.

"When can I see you again?"

"Whenever you want," I smiled. "I'll leave you my number."

The knocking continued. I changed into the t-shirt and jeans that had been brought and stuffed everything else into the empty bag. On my way out, I stopped at the dresser. It had been turned into a vanity. I applied his lipstick and used it to write my phone number on the glass.

I left as other people were coming in. Some were band members who asked me to stay and party. I declined politely and stepped back into the parking lot, Vol at my side. The air was cool. I shivered, already missing his warmth.

When we reached home, I was still high on his skin. I twirled around the apartment. Vol spun with me at first, then jumped on to the table. A bottle clattered to the floor.

"Don't worry," I hummed, stroking his head. "I haven't forgotten your treat."

I opened the refrigerator and unwrapped a piece of fresh meat. It was a large chunk of cheek, complete with dimple piercing. I presented it on a plate and continued my dance. Mid-step, my phone beeped. I dug it out of the pocket of my new pants.

_I need to see you again. Tomorrow night?_

"You really did it, Vol," I said adoringly. "You are worth every inconvenience."

The cat purred contentedly with his dinner. By the time he'd finished, all that would be left was the barbell.


	2. Hunt

October is the perfect time to dispose of a body. No one bats an eye at a garbage bag with a tuft of blonde hair peeking out. As I heaved it into the dumpster behind an hourly motel, I was glad that my normal discresion wasn't necessary.

I had enough meat left for a little while, but I would have to find another trusting soul very soon. Fortunately, Vol has a taste for young women, the most gullible and easily overpowered demographic. He would help me get her alone and I would do the rest.

It was the price I was willing to pay to have Marilyn. He was worth every scream.

I had seen him three times while he was in town. Each encounter was earth-shattering. Even though Vol's influence on him would fade with distance, I knew that the memory of those orgasms would stay fresh. He would never feel that way with anyone else.

It had only been a few days since he arrived home and he had already asked me to join him. He offered to pay for everything and pick me up personally at LAX. I wanted to be with him, more than anything. Still, I hesitated.

Vol needed to be fed. Would it be riskier to smuggle pieces of his next buffet in a suitcase, or to hunt once we reached the city? I was still perfecting the process. The idea of carrying it out behind Marilyn's back was daunting.

No, I had come so far. I wasn't about to let my familiar's needs come between me and my ultimate goal. He would feed. I would find a way. But my first priority hadn't changed.

The day before our flight, Vol gorged on the last of the blonde. She would tide him over for a few days, provided I let him drink. He seemed comfortable in his carrier and made it past security.

I slept for most of the flight. When we landed, I was ready for action. I wasn't quite ready for the sight of Marilyn in the airport, wearing a baseball cap and holding a hastily scrawled "Fuck Bunny" sign.

He offered to help with my luggage while I carried Vol. I certainly wasn't going to argue. He even loaded my suitcase into the trunk of the car. Vol's carrier rode in the front seat with the driver.

In the back, Marilyn was a blushing mess. He asked about the flight and pointed out landmarks. His hands were folded in his lap. I was polite and listened, but inside I was dying. He was trying so hard to keep his hands to himself.

As soon as he had me in his home, though, he pulled me into a kiss. It was breathless and pure. Being in his arms was my greatest pleasure. I wanted to melt into him and forget the rest of the world.

Vol had other ideas. He jiggled the door of his carrier. I let him out, expecting him to dart away and explore the space. Instead, he rubbed against Marilyn's leg.

"Hello, gorgeous," he said, picking the cat up. "We haven't properly met. I'm Marilyn."

He was so sweet with Vol. I felt a twinge of sadness, knowing he'd lost his own companion. I hoped that he wouldn't feel uncomfortable with a strange cat in his home.

Once set down, my familiar began to make his way around the house. Marilyn pointed out the litter box, food, bowls and toys he'd gotten for his guest. I was grateful for his thoughtfulness. I couldn't tell him that he needn't have worried.

I should've been worrying. I should've been taking the layout of the house in case I needed to work there. I should've been searching for a hunting ground. I should've been planning.

But I was too busy running my fingers through Marilyn's black hair and staring into his hazel eyes. He mapped my mouth with his tongue, growing in intensity until we were both stripping out of our clothes.

He had me on the couch, straddling his lap, grinding and moaning. I hadn't felt him in over a week. I was greedy, taking him as deeply as I could, drinking his kisses. We exploded together. The panting void of our afterglow reminded me of the first time. With Marilyn, it was the first time every time.

The first night, we barely slept. We laughed, kissed, debated and drove one another to spectacular orgasms. We whispered secrets and cried. We condensed everything we should've had, everything that I had bled for, into a few hours of screams and sighs.

In the morning, with the sun slowly pushing the darkness under tables and behind doors, he told me he loved me.

I nursed Vol while Marilyn made phone calls. He was hungry. His feeding left a deep bite on my wrist and a green feeling in my gut. He needed a proper meal. I had been so delirious that I'd failed in my duty. But I had been warned not to leave him hungry. I had to make it work.

I asked offhandedly whether Marilyn's driver could show me some notable coffeeshops. I knew that my lover hated coffee and thought it would lead to some alone time. I was surprised when he volunteered to come along. He didn't want to leave my side.

It was inconvenient but I was still able to scout a promising area. The shop was a mom and pop treasure with not-yet-gentrified neighbors. I was confident that Vol and I could pick out a girl, and that I could finish her out of sight. Only the trip there and back would be a problem.

When Marilyn and I retired to the bedroom for the night, he'd had a few drinks. It was just enough to flavor his lips and give his hands a rough edge. I hoped it would also help him sleep.

He turned me over his knee and spanked me. I squealed and sighed, delighted that this secret kink was being revealed. Each strike built on the previous one until my ass was on fire.

Satisfied that his dinner had been warmed, he devoured me. My breasts, my thighs, my sex, were lavished by his lips and tongue. I returned his affections, nibbling and kissing his skin, taking him into my mouth. We were both brought close to orgasm, but wanted to experience it together.

Still captivated by my spanked ass, he arranged me on my knees. It was a completely unique experience. He traced my spine with his fingers and mouth, drawing sweet whimpers from me. I was more than ready.

When he slid into me, I saw stars. I could feel him leaning over me, breathing vodka and sex into my neck. His thrusts were steady and firm. I arched against him, reaching back to draw him closer. His rumbling moans rippled through me.

Our heat built, each feeding off of the other, until it exploded. Marilyn pulled me close, clinging to me for dear life. I shuddered and screamed as he filled me. I wanted to stay in his arms forever, wracked with pleasure that bordered on pain, feeling in him the same brutal and addicting sensations.

Our tremors eventually subsided and we slipped into a puddle of one another. I stroked his cheek, pushing his damp hair toward his ear. He kept his fingertips on my skin and his eyes closed. I loved him until he fell asleep.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the luxury. I had to go out. I carefully left his bed, a lump forming in my throat. If I wanted to keep him, I had no choice.

 


	3. Caught

I felt so guilty when I stepped out of the car, Vol in my arms. I'd asked Marilyn's driver to drop me off at the coffeeshop and wait for my text to return. It felt dirty. But it couldn't be helped.

Vol immediately slunk away, leaving me to take up position behind the shop. I set my kit in the space between two dumpsters. I didn't have long to wait. Vol soon came prancing back with a girl close behind.

"Here, kitty," she said softly, her eyes locked onto him.

Those eyes were blue, her hair brunette. She might've been twenty years old. Her skin was good. If she was a runaway, it was recent. Vol had never chosen a bad specimen but I always looked them over, just in case.

I stepped toward her, a big smile on my face. I watched her expression change from confusion to attraction. I held my hand out and she took it. It felt cheap, pulling her toward the dumpsters. I'd never done it in the open.

My nervousness showed. I didn't kiss her nearly enough before gripping her throat. Fewer endorphins meant more fight. She clawed the back of my hand before her high peaked. I was relieved when she slumped to the ground.

I worked quickly, afraid of being discovered. Vol picked at the face, his favorite part. I packed a few thick pieces and some smaller cuts, shoving the bagged flesh into my pack. It was nowhere near the amount of meat it should've been. Most of the body was bagged and tipped into the dumpster.

I washed up with bottled water and paper towels. Vol licked his chops and followed me to the front of the shop. I intended to order a coffee to go and text the driver. But when I came around the corner, the car was parked at the curb.

My stomach dropped. I opened the car door and climbed in. Marilyn was waiting, his head in his hands. Vol curled up at my feet. The car moved but my lover didn't. I felt powerless. Even after we parked and the driver left, he stayed.

"I don't understand," he finally murmured. "Are you... Were you... Why would..."

He made a choking sound and looked up. His face was red and streaked with tears. My own tears were falling. I'd never intended to hurt him, but I'd also failed to plan an explanation.

"I wasn't cheating," I whispered. "Please believe me. There's no one for me but you."

"Then what?"

I sobbed. What could I say to make this ok? How could I make him understand without driving him away? I had nothing left but the truth.

I opened my pack and pulled out a bag. The inside was smeared with blood, but I used my fingers to press the plastic to the skin of the cut. A small rose tattoo that had been on the girl's thigh peeked out.

I caught Marilyn's eyes. They held questions I knew I'd have to answer. I took his hand and stroked it. He nodded. He thought he was ready to know.

Back in the kitchen, Marilyn sat with a soda in his hands. I laid the packages in his refrigerator. The air was thick. I joined him, feeling the weight of his trust. I had created this situation. I had to explain it in a way that would mend our relationship.

"Vol needs it," I said bluntly.

"Vol... The cat?"

I nodded. My familiar must have been listening. He took the moment to leap onto the table and lie down.

"He's not a normal cat," I said gently. "This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to understand that it's the truth."

Marilyn focused on my face. His eyes softened. He had been heartbroken. Now he was ready to forgive.

"I received Vol from a demon. He's a familiar. He needs human flesh and blood. I have to keep him fed. If I don't, he'll feed himself. Then anyone, including you or me, could be on the menu."

"Why would you ask a demon... for a cat?"

It was a fair question, but one I didn't want to answer. Would he balk if he knew that his attraction to me was unnatural? I decided to tiptoe around the pointed parts and give him a smoothed version.

"He was meant to introduce me to you. I knew that we were meant to be together and that you'd feel the same way. But I had to catch your eye. I bargained to get the chance to love you. Caring for Voluptemo is the price I pay for happiness."

Marilyn sat in silence as he absorbed what I'd said. He took deep breaths. He looked at Vol, reached out and stroked him. I hoped that the cat's charm would help.

"It's my happiness, too," he finally said, turning back to me. "I don't care what it takes. We're in this together. How do you do it?"

I carefully explained our process. Vol would draw a lady in. I would seduce and strangle her. She would be filleted and stored, and Vol would be satisfied until the meat ran out.

As Marilyn listened, I could see his gears turning. He touched his mouth and shifted in his chair. He was soon making suggestions for safer, less wasteful kills. It was almost comforting, knowing that he was a part of my secret.

We sat in silence for a long while before he reached for me. He led me back to the bedroom. We undressed slowly and curled up together. He kissed me tenderly. Despite the horrific news he'd received, he held me.

I knew that Marilyn wanted me. I had gone to great lengths to ensure that. But was it possible that he cared for me? Was it possible he could love me, truly love me?

I held him close, feeling his breath and his heartbeat. I wanted this, more than anything. The thought that it could be genuine warmed me. I closed my eyes and slept.

 


	4. Together

We made our first kill together long before the runaway's flesh was gone. Marilyn wanted the freedom to go slowly. The girl was a prostitute. The driver had picked her up. I was nervous at his involvement, particularly since he had divulged my secret outing. But my lover insisted he could be trusted.

He had prepped a party room, complete with champagne to loosen her up. I knew that wouldn't be necessary. Vol's charm would be more than enough to get her high. Marilyn just hadn't seen it in action.

The hooker was all business. She was already listing prices when she entered the room. That faded, though, when she saw my familiar. She immediately began cooing at him and staring at my lover and I as though we were gods of beauty.

I took her in my arms and kissed her. I heard Marilyn suck in a jealous breath. Despite my reassurances that these kisses we're hollow, he was having difficulty sharing my mouth. Before long, she was limp in my arms. I turned to my love and nodded.

He stepped forward with a garotte in his hands. It didn't take much to strangle her. She was beyond fighting back. In less than ten minutes, she was lying on a tarp in the middle of the floor.

I demonstrated my cutting style, removing major blocks of flesh. I had always focussed on the limbs, the buttocks, and of course the face. My work was generally rushed, as I needed to dispose of the leftovers quickly.

Marilyn came after me, removing more finicky cuts. He opened the body cavity to remove the heart, kidneys, liver and lungs. He sawed through the long bones of the legs and arms, keeping the chunks with the most marrow.

Each piece went into a labeled bag. We weren't entirely sure what Vol would eat, so the newer meals were experimental. If he accepted them, we could be more efficient and require fewer kills.

Once everything was packed away, the corpse, now wrapped in the tarp, was given to the driver for disposal. Again, I worried that he would be a loose end. And again, Marilyn assured me that there would be no problems.

We cleaned up and sat at the kitchen table. I looked nervously into my soda. I didn't realize how erotic it would be to dismantle a body with him. But I expected he would be disgusted by what we'd done. When I glanced up at him, his eyes told a different story.

He was staring intensely, biting his lower lip. I felt a blush rising in my cheeks. The room was warm. I cleared my throat.

"I'm sorry that you're involved. You must be so-"

"Fucking turned on," he interrupted. "I had no idea what a rush that would be. Are you..."

His eyes moved to my chest and back up to my face. I nodded. In an instant, he was on his feet, perching me on the tabletop. He stood between my knees and leaned down to engulf my lips.

"I can't... believe... we just... fuck..." He murmured between kisses.

His hands shook as he unbuttoned my jeans. I hiked my hips so that he could pull them off. He fumbled with his zipper. His breathing was labored. Finally, he wrestled his cock from its prison and leaned into me.

I gasped as he entered me. He seemed bigger than usual, and his thrusts were savage. He put his hands on my shoulders, leveraging his grip to maintain the angle. Each time he drove into me, I yelped. I could feel the table beneath me jerk.

His eyes were steel. My typically sensitive lover didn't seem concerned with tenderness. He curled his lips back and panted through his teeth. He slammed his hips into mine. The violence of it pushed me toward climax.

He didn't slow or try to delay his finish. He yanked me toward himself and slammed to the hilt. His animalistic grunts tipped me over the edge. I dove into his shoulder and screamed. My entire body convulsed. He filled me, lifting me entirely off of the table.

His knees and arms went weak and he set me back onto the table. He hummed, his eyes closed tightly, still trembling from his orgasm. I kissed the sweat from his forehead while he came down.

He finally looked up at me. His eyes were soft and concerned. He licked his lips and touched my cheek.

"Are you ok?" His voice was hoarse.

I grinned and brushed his hair back. I hadn't quite caught my breath.

"I love you," I panted. "I love you so fucking much."

He leaned down and gently kissed me. It was a stark contrast to the beast he had been minutes before. He layered light kisses over my lips. His fingertips grazed my jaw.

Eventually, he seemed to realize that we were soaking wet and pantless in the kitchen. He giggled and offered to carry me to the shower. I couldn't turn him down.

The warm water and his hands ran over my back. I returned the favor, lathering his shoulders. Our bareness wasn't inherently sexual. More, we were enjoying the simple intimacy.

After drying off, we sat in the living room, buck naked and worn out. Marilyn turned the TV on but neither of us were watching. My lover dozed off. I watched his face until I, too, drifted off.

I woke under a blanket. I could hear low voices. As I became more aware, I recognized Marilyn and his driver. I stood up carefully, wrapping the blanket to cover my nude body, and walked toward their voices.

"You're acting like I've never had you take care of a body," my lover said coldly.

"I just have a bad feeling," the driver said. "There's something about her that isn't right. What do you even know about her?"

"I know that she's mine. She's going to stay mine. If you have a problem with that, you might be my new driver's first body dump. Is that clear?"

I held my breath. He had to be joking around, disarming the flighty driver with sarcasm. He wasn't a threatening man. The way he'd reacted to our kill caught him off-guard. It was his first encounter with death... Wasn't it?

 


	5. Babygirl

The following days were strange. Marilyn hired a crew to handle my affairs in my old city. They took care of my lease, packed and sent my most valuable possessions, and sold the rest. There was no going back. It was a dream come true. Then why did I have a nagging uneasiness?

I hadn't confronted him about his conversation with the driver. I felt guilty for eavesdropping, and uncomfortable with what I'd heard. I didn't want to get caught up in a lie. I'd seen how an omission could break his heart. I resolved to discuss it... eventually.

The novelty of our relationship seemed to lessen and he returned to his life. He began to sequester himself for hours on end, working or making plans or taking calls. I wasn't deterred. I knew that Marilyn's first love was his art. I was content with being his first lust.

I busied myself while he was gone. I wrote page after page. I went through his library. I took long walks with Vol. I met his friends as they passed through. I felt as though I was becoming a comfortable part of his world.

When he was finished, or tired, I would hear the heavy lock on the door to his workroom. He would come into the kitchen for a quick bite, then take me to his bed and ravish me. He slept peacefully, occasionally waking to cuddle or pin me to the bed. He seemed happy.

One afternoon, after rolling in and then out of bed, Marilyn didn't hide away. He sat with me in the living room, a documentary playing on the tv. I wasn't watching. I was enjoying the look of him, his long legs wrapped in black denim, his tattooed arms hung over the back of the couch.

"What are you looking at?" He smirked, having noticed my stare.

"The man I love," I replied, moving to his side. "The man I want. The man I can't live without."

He pulled me into his lap. His eyes searched mine. I could feel his fingers on my hip.

"Do you promise?"

I smiled and bent to him, pressing my lips to his. I ran my fingers through his dark hair. I traced his shoulder blade with my hand.

"Of course I do," I whispered, nuzzling his cheek. "You're my everything."

He seemed satisfied and buried his face in my cleavage. He held me so tightly that I felt completely, wonderfully owned. I stroked his hair. If I had the power, I would have stayed in that moment forever. It finally ended when he pulled his face back.

"I'm going to be filming in Chicago," he said softly. "I leave on Tuesday. I know it's sudden. Will you be ok alone?"

Alone? I swallowed my disappointment. If he needed me to stay, I would stay. I nodded.

"How long will you be gone?"

"Two weeks, maybe more," he sighed. "Too long."

He stroked my cheek. I focused on his lips and the smell of him. I wanted to fill myself with him. I kissed him, sweetly at first, then strongly, in love with his flavor. He snuck an arm under my knees and stood, taking me with him.

I squealed and laughed as he spun in a circle. He couldn't have been less of a ballerina. There was a very real danger that he would trip. But I trusted him. If I went down, he would be coming with me.

He carried me down the hall, but not to his bed. He nudged the door to his workroom and brought me in. I could see his paint, spread on the floor, a computer, stacks of notebooks. They were the nuts and bolts of his art. I was honored to see it.

He sat me on a large ottoman that appeared to be used as a chair. He reached up and pulled an overhead microphone toward us. A deep lean got him just close enough to turn on a piece of equipment. He tapped the microphone.

"Hello," he rasped in his best professional voice, pulling me toward him. "This is Marilyn Manson, live from my house."

He kissed his way down my neck and peeled my shirt away. My pants were next. Soon I was completely nude, sitting on the footstool, being surveyed by my fully clothed lover.

"What do you want, babygirl?" he purred.

"I want you," I grinned, slipping to the floor next to him, seeking him with my fingers.

He hopped up on the footstool and squeezed his hardening cock through his jeans. I took up a place between his knees, licking my lips.

"Ok," he said, freeing his erection, "show Daddy what you've got."

I wrapped my hands around his hardness, licking the head. He leaned back and moved his hips closer to the edge. I took him entirely into my mouth and he gasped.

"Good girl."

I stroked and sucked, getting high on his moans. He tangled his fingers in my hair. I swirled my tongue and slid him into my throat, then pulled back.

"Like this, Daddy?" I asked dreamily, playing into his fantasy.

"Just like that, babydoll."

I descended into his lap, doing everything I could think of to please him. He hadn't often requested oral gratification, preferring to focus on me. Now I stayed keenly aware of his twitches and groans, learning what he liked and repeating it until he pulled me up, gasping.

"What do you want, babygirl?" He was breathless.

"I want you, Daddy," I murmured just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "I want you inside of me."

"You want Daddy to fuck you?"

I nodded and hummed. He reached for me and I stood.

"Come here, baby."

I straddled him and gradually moved down. He entered slowly, deeply, and he groaned. I rocked against him, giving only the slightest friction, teasing him.

"Am I a good girl, Daddy?" I kissed his earlobe.

"Oh, babygirl, you're the best."

He hiked his hips, thrusting deeply into me. I moaned, my hands on his shoulders, my eyes on his face. He looked intense, but loose, freely enjoying our play. Again and again, he lifted his hips to meet my movement, driving into me.

"Please fuck me, Daddy."

We moaned together. My bare skin against his clothes felt naughty. It was like a stolen moment, a tryst. I bucked against him, utterly turned on by the scene he had set.

Our movements were steady. I could feel my orgasm building. I tried to speed up and he held my hips firmly, guiding me to match his rhythm. The tingling warmth spread over my body.

"Please, Daddy," I whimpered.

"What do you want, babygirl?"

"Please can I cum?" I bit my lip, my cheeks flushed.

"Yes, baby," he moaned. "Cum for Daddy."

I sat hard on his lap, taking him to the hilt, as my orgasm overtook me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and anchored myself to him. My spasms crushed his hardness. I couldn't catch my breath.

He slid to the floor and laid me on my back. I ran my hands over my breasts and stomach while he pulled his shirt off. His jeans were wet. He pulled them down around his thighs.

"Don't worry, babydoll," he said, his voice thick. "Daddy's not done yet."

He leaned over me and kissed me. His tongue searched for mine gently, lovingly. His skin slid against me. He leaned up and watched my face as he sank back into me.

I arched my back. My sex was even more sensitive after my orgasm. He ran his hand down my throat, over my sternum, to my stomach. His hair fell into his eyes.

"What do you want, baby?"

"I want you, Daddy," I gasped. "I want you to take me. I want you to fuck me."

He groaned and fell into a steady beat. Each time he hit bottom, I let out a yelp. It felt as though we'd been at it for hours and I never wanted it to stop. I ran my hands over his shoulders and back. I could feel him tensing.

"Are you gonna cum in me, Daddy?"

Hearing the question made him groan and quicken his pace. Asking it lit my flesh on fire. I knew that I would soon be riding out another climax. He knew my signals and drove into me harder.

"Daddy's gonna cum," he groaned. "Cum with me, babygirl."

I locked my ankles at the small of his back and exploded. He followed soon after, soaking me with his heat. He pressed his cheek against mine. He made sweet sounds, deep whines that punctuated his final thrusts. He gave out and I relished his weight.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, babydoll."

We caught our breath, still joined. He kissed my ear and neck, eliciting soft sighs. He finally raised up, kneeling over me. He grinned and brought the microphone down to his lips.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it's done."

I laughed as he stood shakily and hit the button to stop the recording. He slumped on to the ottoman, his clothes disheveled and his hair plastered to his head. I stretched and went limp. The air was cool on my damp skin. I could've fallen asleep right there.

He did let me nap, after cleaning me up and moving me to his bed. He spooned behind me. I felt warm and safe. Somewhere in the fuzzy edges of my mind, I remembered that he would be leaving in a few days. I absorbed as much of him as I could. I would need his memory to keep me warm.

 


	6. Phone

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

The driver and I were finally butting heads. I had no time for his bullshit. Vol's supply was nearly gone. Marilyn could be back any day now, but I couldn't wait. I needed to make sure that my familiar would feed.

"I mean I'm not picking anyone up for you. I'm not driving you to get anyone. And I'm not dumping anything."

My cheeks burned. I didn't want to run to Marilyn like a child calling its mother. But I didn't know if I had the power to threaten him. I stepped toward him and glared.

"You have no idea what I can do to you."

It was a bluff. Vol's charm had never seemed to work on him and I had no real leverage. I wasn't violent. Not really. But I knew he didn't trust me and didn't know why. I hoped he would relent.

"I know what you do," he whispered. "And the answer is no."

He walked out of the kitchen and I heard the front door slam shut. I sent a text to Marilyn, asking him to call me when he could. The phone rang almost immediately.

"I miss you," he said. It was always his introduction.

"I miss you," I said softly, ashamed at having to resort to begging for his authority. "I have a problem. I hate to call you about it. But I need to... get groceries. And your driver is refusing. I tried to resolve it myself. I'm so sorry, it just can't wait."

There was a pause. He cleared his throat.

"Don't worry about it, kitten," he said. "I'll take care of it. Now, how are you doing? Are you listening to our little recording?"

"Every day," I giggled. "Are you?"

"You know I am. And you know what I do when it's playing. I can't wait to see you. Are you alone?"

"Of course."

"Go to the workroom. I need something from you."

It seemed strange to go into his private space without him. It was naughty, like sneaking into a museum after hours to touch the exhibits. I trailed my fingers on his notebooks and a half-finished canvas.

"Ok, I'm here. What do you need?"

"The recording stack, the big white button. Press it for me and sit down."

I found and clicked the button and settled onto the ottoman. There were several loud taps, staticky, booming from all around the room.

_Hello. This is Marilyn Manson, live from my house._

In the moments that followed, just over the sound of kisses and rustling clothing, I heard his voice in my ear.

"I'm in my hand," he murmured. "Do this with me."

I unzipped my jeans and ran a hand down my stomach. My fingers touched my sex. It was already warm. I couldn't deny the effect that his voice had on me.

 _What do you want, babygirl?_ His question surrounded me.

"I want you, Daddy," I whispered, my finger tracing circles in my panties.

I heard him sigh in my ear. I imagined his body, laid back on some hotel bed. I closed my eyes and pictured his slow strokes.

_Good girl._

I stood and shucked my jeans off. The ottoman was warm under me as I sat down. I draped one leg on each side and leaned back.

_Just like that, babydoll._

My fingers moved faster. I could feel a flush rising on my chest. I held the phone tight to my ear, needing to catch his sighs and moans over the distance. I could hear a wet sound, rhythmic and familiar.

"You want Daddy to fuck you?" He said the words at the exact moment that they flowed from the speakers. He must have listened to it countless times.

"Yes, Daddy," I said breathlessly. "I want you to fuck me, Daddy. I want you to fuck your babygirl."

He was panting into my ear. I lost my fingers, trying to fill myself in the way only he could. My thumb ran swirls over my sensitive flesh. I could hear our moans and the creaking of the stool as he drove into me.

"Please, Daddy," I begged.

"What do you want, babygirl?"

The stereo effect of Marilyn in my ear and Marilyn over the surround sound had me on a knife edge.

"Please, Daddy, I'm gonna cum," I babbled. "Please, please, Daddy."

"Cum for me, babygirl," he rasped.

I released, throwing my head back and moaning loudly. I could feel my wetness flowing. It was no doubt staining the ottoman. I didn't care. When I came back to myself, I brought the phone to my lips.

"Are you still there?" I whispered.

"Don't worry, babydoll," he said, in time with the recording. "Daddy's not done yet."

I licked my lips and pretended it was his salt on my tongue. I listened intently to the gasps and beautiful moist sounds coming through the phone.

"Are you still going, baby?" he panted.

"I'm here."

I had stopped stroking, but my hand came back to life. My fingertips probed and explored. My breath deepened and the heat slowly came back. I heard a familiar groan. He was getting close.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Daddy?" My voice was already urgent.

"Daddy's gonna cum, babydoll." He was hoarse. "Daddy's gonna cum deep inside of you. You're never gonna forget me."

He faltered as he finished. I closed my eyes and pictured his hand, trembling over his still-thick flesh, dripping. I arched and screamed, a powerful climax rocking my body. I had no idea if the phone was still in my hand, let alone to my ear. Only after I'd collapsed did I hear him again.

"Good girl," he hummed. "Daddy loves you so much, baby."

His adoring words were like brushes of his lips, cooling my heat. Suddenly self-conscious, I gathered my clothes in my hand and turned off the recording. I took the phone into the bedroom.

"I miss you so much," I said. "When are you coming home?"

"Soon. Real soon. But I'm going to have to go. I need to wash up and get to set." I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "And don't worry about the groceries. I'll make sure they're delivered."

We whispered our goodbyes and I cleaned up before stretching out on the bed. I looked at my phone, at the recording we'd made, saved there so I could listen. The silence was cold. I pressed play.


	7. Home

Marilyn had promised to get me a body, not to convince the driver to cooperate. Still, I was caught off guard when the person delivered to our party room was the gruff, greying tattletale who had spilled my secret in the first place.

The blood and bruises showed that he'd put up a fight. But he'd become compliant. Vol jumped into his lap. My familiar must've been working very hard. The driver had always seemed immune to his power, but now he caressed the cat, looking more and more drunk.

Alex, who introduced himself as our new driver, helped me spread the tarp out. He asked if I needed help. I didn't think so, but asked if he could stay outside the door just in case.

"Of course, miss," he nodded, closing the door as he left.

I looked the old driver over. He seemed high enough. I moved his chin and he looked me in the eye. A lazy smile crossed his face. He was gone. The garrotte made quick work of him.

I rolled him onto the floor and cut him. I took a perverse pleasure in his dissection. He had treated me like a common woman, as if I weren't Marilyn's goddess. He had insulted me. I was determined to enjoy him.

I made more slices than necessary, mutilating pieces that I didn't intend to keep. I spat on him. I rubbed his blood into my hands. Vol nudged my leg, reminding me to package his share of the corpse. I obeyed and dropped the bags to the side.

I wrapped what was left of the body in the tarp. I cleaned up and called Alex back in. He said nothing, but tied the package tight and carried it out. I could already tell that he was an improvement.

With the meat packed away and the blood scrubbed off, I settled into a chair with a book. I felt powerful. The house was mine. The people who worked for my lover worked for me. It was such an intoxicating feeling that I couldn't concentrate on reading.

I put the book on a side table on my way to the bedroom. I stripped and laid down. I was warm, tingling with excitement. My eyes closed and my hands ran along my skin. I wanted Marilyn. I ached for him.

My eyes fluttered open and I saw him. He was standing at the foot of the bed, watching with a smirk on his face. He unbuttoned his shirt and his pants.

"I wish you were really here," I whispered.

He grinned and dropped his clothes to the side. The bed gave as he moved to join me.

"I am here," he said, brushing my hair back. "I'm glad I didn't call ahead. I'd hate to have interrupted you."

My heart leapt and I pulled him down, mashing my mouth into his. I nibbled his bottom lip and gave him my tongue. He tasted exactly as I'd remembered.

I ran my hands over his chest and shoulders, making sure he wasn't a dream. He sighed against my lips. I couldn't wait any longer. I pushed him flat onto the bed and straddled his hips.

"I've missed you," I whispered, rubbing against his stiffening cock. "You have no idea how lonely I've been."

I guided him into me and pressed down, relishing the way he filled me so completely. I leaned back and gasped. He brushed his hands down my sides and settled on my hips. I bent down to kiss him and began to move.

"I'm already close," I murmured. "You feel so good."

He hiked his hips up to meet me and raked his fingernails across my shoulders. I looked into his eyes and began to shake. He smiled and I lost it. My orgasm flattened me against his chest. He held me, kissing my neck and shoulder.

Before the waves had even passed, I was hungry for more. I rocked my hips, grinding into him. My moans were soon joined by his low growls. Hearing his pleasure gave me goosebumps. The familiar heat built quickly. Almost before I could register it, I fell back into his arms, rocked by a second orgasm.

He laid kisses along my lips and neck, rolling me onto my back. I was in no position to argue. He began to thrust firmly, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips parted. He was beautiful. I told him so and he chuckled.

"You're the beautiful one," he insisted, palming my breast. "And you're mine, all mine."

He accented his words with deep plunges that took my breath away. I pulled him toward me, stealing his kisses as the familiar burn settled in me. I scratched his shoulders and whimpered. He slowed his movement, teasing, drawing it out. I wrapped my legs around him and tried to pull him in.

"What do you need?" His tone was playful, almost mocking.

"I need to cum," I begged. "Please, Marilyn, make me cum."

A wide grin spread across his face. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there. The pressure was tremendous. I tried to lift my hips, to get the precious friction I needed. He put his weight on me, pinning me down and denying me what I so desperately wanted. I squirmed.

"Please," I whispered. "Please, please..."

My pleading devolved into babbling moans. Finally, he relented and made it up to me, thrusting with speed and force. In moments, my climax consumed me. My spasms milked his orgasm from him. He shuddered above me, groaning loudly. I gasped at the throbbing fullness as he finished. It was delicious and long overdue.

He fell into my arms and kissed me. I blinked hard, half expecting to wake up, soaked and alone. When he didn't dissolve, I showered him with kisses and clung to him.

"Promise you won't ever leave me," I said, "not really. Promise you'll always come back."

He stroked my cheek and my jawline. His eyes ran over my lips.

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

 


	8. Fresh

I woke to his smell, his warmth in the bed, his hand on my hip. I knew he was awake. He wasn't snoring. Knowing that he was so close, so comfortable, was like Christmas morning. My heart sang.

"Good morning," he said, leaning over to nuzzle my ear. "Or afternoon. I have no idea."

I laughed and rolled toward him. He was barefaced and messy. I loved him like that. I pushed his hair behind his ear.

"I don't care what time it is. If you're awake, I want to be awake, too."

He grinned like a silly, adorable boy. I loved him so fiercely that I couldn't tell which of us had been bewitched. He kissed me gently and I opened to him. My body was sore from his homecoming. But if he wanted me, I would've done anything to please him.

"How do you like our new driver?" he asked, touching my face.

"He seems like an improvement," I replied. "He did his job and spoke to me with respect."

"No one, ever, can disrespect my girl."

A few more lazy kisses, and he offered to make me a smoothie. I accepted. For all of the pampered darkness in his resume, the man made a mean smoothie. We pulled on some comfortable clothes and walked to the kitchen, holding hands.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" he said softly, slicing a mango. "How many people has Vol eaten?"

I had to think for a minute, mentally tallying my body count. The driver, the hooker, the runaway, the blonde, and my first kill, a brunette that was no more than seventeen.

"Six."

Marilyn nodded, loading the blender.

"But I took care of our first together, so you've done it five times?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, a little uneasy with his line of questioning. "Is there a reason you're asking?"

He shook his head and smiled. The blender came to life, filling the silence. I brought two glasses from the cabinet and we enjoyed our treats. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I knew, without a doubt, that I would do anything to keep him. I would kill a thousand women before I let him go.

He left for several hours to work. I settled into my work widow routine, writing and reading. I put on Marilyn's music. He didn't listen to it much himself, but I loved it. It made me feel close to him.

Vol rubbed against my leg and led me to his refrigerator. I chose a thick piece of thigh and presented it on a plate. The cat sniffed it, sat and looked at me. Confused, I tried half a kidney, and got the same reaction. I gave him the cheek, his favorite cut. He didn't even approach the plate.

My heartbeat sped up as I approached panic. Vol had never refused meat before. I held the plate to my nose. It was still fresh. It had been cut the same. Was it because the driver was a man? Was there something off that I couldn't smell? Vol narrowed his eyes at me and growled. For the first time, I was afraid of him.

I offered my wrist to tide him over. He tore into me viciously, mangling my flesh in a way he'd never done before. There was a pit in my stomach that got darker and deeper as he took my blood. I was dizzy when he stopped. He crept into a dark corner and watched me bandage my arm.

I couldn't let him take Marilyn from me. Not now that we had relaxed into one another. Not now that I had tasted his sweetness and seen his raw self. Not ever.

I poured over the books I'd amassed before summoning Sitri. I looked for information on his familiars, their desires, their dangers. Refusal of offerings was associated with rebellion. A familiar who stopped eating had come to the end of his patience. The pages were littered with drawings of cats and shadows ripping their targets apart. I thought back to that night, the demon with the face of a leopard glaring at me from his salted prison. Vol had the same eyes.

I made a list of things i needed: mallow root, rosemary, angelica, mullein, salt, candles, grave dirt, a used nail. I called Alex and read the list to him. He asked no questions and promised to deliver them. I sat at the kitchen table.

What would happen if I could no longer control my familiar? Was it possible to banish him? If I did, would his charm - and Marilyn's love - wear off? A part of me believed that my lover's affections were genuine. But how could I be sure that, in saving his life, I wouldn't lose his love?

I shoved the table against the wall, clearing a space on the tile floor. I needed answers from the mouth of the demon himself. Alex arrived far sooner than I'd expected. He offered his assistance and left quietly. His dedication to discretion was commendable.

I worked as quickly as I could, setting up a protected area. Once satisfied, I turned out the lights and sealed myself inside. I consecrated my supplies. I lit the candles by feel. In the warm glow of the circle, I tried to clear my mind.

It's difficult to pierce skin with a nail. I was desperate, though, and managed to shove it into my hand. I smeared the blood across my mirror until the surface was dark. Then I added candle wax, one drip at a time.

"Sitri," I said into the dark, "I call on you to answer me. How can I feed Voluptemo? What does he want?"

The beads of wax floated on the mirror's dark pool. They moved slowly but with purpose, joining to form shapes, then letters.

FRESH

"Was the meat I offered today not fresh?"

ALIVE

The implication should've been shocking. But life had become so cheap to me. The idea of killing every day or two so that Vol could eat was nothing compared to the consequences if I didn't. I nodded.

"When I have fed Vol, can I release him? Will you take him back and let me live freely, unaided by your influence?"

YES

I took a deep breath and swallowed. I had no reason to expect that the demon could answer my next question. But I asked anyway.

"Is Marilyn's love for me authentic? Will it remain after I release Vol to you?"

TRUTH

"What is that supposed to mean?"

The tiny globs of wax came together in the center of the blood pool. I watched them cool and become opaque. The puck of wax slid off of the mirror and broke on the floor. Sitri was done talking.

As soon as I'd cleansed and closed the space, I dialed Alex and asked him to bring me a girl. I needed to pacify my familiar before Marilyn returned. I readied the party room and paced the floor.

One hour turned to two and I feared Alex had betrayed me. I called his cell with no answer. I threw pillows and books. I kicked tables. I screamed. Vol watched from a shelf.

There was a knock on the door. I ran to hold it closed and tripped, landing hard. I pressed myself against the door. Blood dripped down my lip.

"Who is it?"

"It's Alex, miss. I have the girl you requested."

I exhaled, seemingly for the first time in hours. I opened the door just wide enough to reach my hand. She took it. I instructed Alex to wait in the living room. Once his footsteps faded, I let her in, locking the door behind her.

She was pretty in a lopsided way. She was small. She smelled like motel shampoo. I wiped the blood from my nose and lips and invited her to sit. She looked scared.

I poured her a drink and looked to Vol. He didn't move. And she didn't seem affected by his presence. I realized that I was on my own. The drink would loosen her up, but it wouldn't incapacitate her in any meaningful way. Not quickly enough.

I asked her to tell me about herself. While she talked, I looked around the room for something to subdue her with. My eyes fell on a heavy metal statuette. I picked it up and pretended to look at it, nodding to keep her talking.

I refilled her drink and stood in front of her, coiled like a spring. She raised the glass to her lips and I swung. The base of the statue struck her temple. She curled up and rolled off of the couch. After a long moment, she screamed.

I looked at Vol. He licked his lips. I spread the tarp next to her shuddering body and rolled her onto it. She reached an arm out, but stayed in the fetal position. I caught her hand and drug her to the center of the tarp.

"Wait," she sobbed. "Wait. Wait."

I forced her onto her back and she kicked out. Her tennis shoe hit my jaw. Hurting and angry, I sat on her stomach and leaned on her wrists. I heard a soft thump as Vol hit the floor. I hoped it would be over soon.

Vol crept onto the tarp and toward the girl's face. She looked at him and her struggling became weaker. He licked her cheek. She gasped and sighed.

His bites were small, but effective. He pulled the skin from her cheek and gnawed at the meat below. She twitched. I sat long enough for my heartbeat to calm. Eventually, my familiar made his way to the edge of the tarp and began washing the blood from his face.

I wrapped my hands are her throat and squeezed. She came back to life, fighting my grip, clawing at my arms and face. I leaned all of my weight on her neck. Something crunched under my palms. I spat into her reddening face.

"How dare you try to stand between me and my need?" I whispered.

My fingers burned and cramped. She went limp. I stayed on her to be sure she was done, then sat up and let tears run down my cheeks. The salt burned.

I wrapped her and called Alex. Then I ducked into the adjacent bathroom to clean up. She had left scratches across my cheek and down my neck. The backs of my hands were bleeding. My nosebleed had stopped but a crescent under one eye was turning dark.

I heard Alex in the party room and yelled for him to clean her fingernails. He shouted that he would and his footsteps faded down the hall.

I sat on the toilet and cried. I had staved off Vol's hunger, for now. But I couldn't live with the knowledge that he could take Marilyn at any time. I would have to release him to his master. I would have to face the possibility that I would lose my love anyway.

The door to the bathroom creaked open.

 


	9. Truth

"Babe?"

Marilyn's voice was soft. He knelt on the tile and wrapped his arms around me. I buried myself in his chest and sobbed. He held me, saying nothing. I felt utterly empty, stripped of certainty. I cried until I had no tears left.

I lifted my head to look him in the face. He looked just as he did the first day. His cyanide eyes swimming in powdery blue shadow. His overdrawn red lips. The line of his jaw melting at his ear.

"I know you never pick up fans," I whispered. "But maybe, just this once..."

His expression was full of questions. He stood and took my hand. I let him take me to his bed. He searched my bruised face. His mouth opened to speak and I stopped him with a kiss.

His lipstick stung my split lip. I carried the pain into some dark part of me, to keep. I felt the ridges in his throat, the smooth edge of his collarbone. I took his tongue, mapping it with mine. He tasted like spearmint and smoke.

I undressed him slowly. I needed to see his skin coming into view. I pressed and kneaded him, memorizing his muscles. He gave me time and held still. I probed his ribs, his spine, the seams between his limbs and trunk.

I pushed him onto his back and took his length into my mouth. I stroked his skin and landed tiny nipping kisses. I swirled my tongue over every inch. My hand on his hip took in every twitch. I moaned and felt the vibration travel through him.

He pulled me back and upward, into a deep kiss. His fingers gradually pulled at my clothing until I was as naked as I felt. He ran his lips and tongue over every part of me. I shuddered and sighed.

I moved under his hands and he settled himself over me. His thickness sent electric jolts through me. I hiked my hips to match his thrusts. He plunged again and again, building momentum. His hair brushed my face, warming the deep scratches on my cheek. He kissed my neck and his breath quickened.

I pulled him tight to me. He was slick with sweat. I kissed it from his shoulder, relishing the burn. He rocked my body will his rhythm, pushed moans from me. My urgency built. Soon I was on the cusp of a dive that was familiar and precious. I raked his skin and bit him, trying to bring him to the edge with me.

He lifted his head and locked eyes with me. His lip quavered. He looked as overtaken as he had been the first time. I couldn't break his gaze as waves of pleasure tensed every muscle. He filled me, spending himself in long, shaking strokes. I wrapped him with my roiling flesh and we landed together.

It was over far too quickly. I immediately wanted to rewind and live it again. He moved to dismount and I held him in place. I needed to stay as long as possible.

"Are you ok?" he asked, panting. "You're a mess."

"I had to feed Vol," I whispered, my voice crackling in my throat. "He needed a live meal."

"She fought back."

I gave an unnecessary nod. I had no idea how long I had until Vol's charms would dissipate. I needed to say my piece before he was no longer interested in hearing it.

"I know I told you I got my cat from a demon. But Vol wasn't just supposed to introduce us," I croaked. "He made you want me. He made the sex better than anything you could have with anyone else. He made you love me. Now he's done. I have to give him back or he'll kill you."

My lover was nodding. He blinked as though he was absorbing the information. He opened his mouth and I stopped him with a finger.

"Please let me finish. When Vol is returned to his master, it'll be over. You won't be compelled to be with me anymore. I've been hoping that... maybe... you could still love me. But I'm so afraid... I wanted one last..."

My confession devolved into blubbering sobs. He leaned into me, pressing himself tightly against my skin. His slowing breath was calming. I nuzzled his shoulder, breathing in his sweat and sex.

"It's ok," he whispered.

"You're not angry?" I sounded like a child who expected a beating.

Marilyn rolled us together and sat up. I straddled his lap, my arms around his shoulders. His runny eyeshadow and smudged lips were beautiful. He was smiling.

"I know what you did," he chuckled.

I felt a warmth spread from my chest. My fingers came alive. My face flushed. I crushed my cheek into his, combing my hands through his soaking hair.

"When did you figure it out?"

He held me tightly. His breath was warm I my ear. He smelled like herbs and salt and blood. I felt the rumble of his purr in my chest.

"When you asked for my cat."

 


End file.
